George Herbert was a 17th Century English poet. One of the things he often worried about, other than his faith, was how to be a poet and say something original, when everything that could possibly be said, written or thought had been said, written and thought many, many times, in many, many ways, in many, many languages.
This play is about people having that same problem (without, of course, religious faith to comfort them). Their emotional growth has been stunted by their language, manner of speech and worries over how to “act their age.”
This play is also a good-bye to my, as playwright Mac Rogers calls it, “Has Anyone Noticed We’re Not Really Having Any Fun Even Though We Constantly Act As Though We Are?” cycle. It began with my play “Monkeys,” continued with “Allston” and concludes with “Two Parties.” If you’ve seen these other plays, I salute you. You’re the one. If you haven’t, don’t worry. You’re not missing any backstory or important plot elements.
This is the cap, the post-dinner brandy, the after-dinner mint, the pillow talk, the conclusion, if you will, of the recurring motif of people being sick of, stuck in, or confused by their surrounding world that they partially helped create. It’s not exactly a culmination, just the final variation of this theme you will see from me. It’s also not that I’m retreading old ground or scraping the bottom-of-the-barrel, I just have one final thing to say on the subject.
Has anyone noticed we’re not having any fun even though we constantly act as though we are?
Here are my final thoughts on the subject. For now, anyway.
James Comtois, Brooklyn, NY